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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166670">Dead Batteries</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_still_bb/pseuds/i_am_still_bb'>i_am_still_bb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Unrelated Fíli and Kíli, mechanic!Fili</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_still_bb/pseuds/i_am_still_bb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili is having a shit day, make that a shit week, month, year. And it's getting worse by the minute. He's driven over 2,000 miles since he left Chicago, and now, within sight of his destination in the valley of central California, his car dies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dead Batteries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/gifts">LegolasLovely</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarigoldVance/gifts">MarigoldVance</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This <i>was</i> going to be a Secret Admirer gift for the other mechanic!Fili lovers. But then I lost control of the story.</p><p>These boys 🙄</p><p>Fili showed up, as planned, and said "Long time no see," and I was just as surprised as Kili (who had already surprised me on his own). There was supposed to be sass, first time meetings, and maybe flirtatious banter. I did not plan on angst and history. I blame the lads entirely.</p><p>And damnit <i>I</i> want to know what happens next! So I guess I'll have to write more at some point.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kili frowns at the new light that pops up on his dashboard. He scans the road, checking the location of the semi-truck that he’s been following for the last 200 miles, before leaning down and squinting at it. He has never seen this one before. It’s a box with a plus and minus and he tries to run through what little he remembers from the faded owner’s manual that he had briefly glanced at when he purchased the car years before. He had only really paid attention to the size of the gas tank.</p><p>In the decade that he has owned the car he has become overly familiar with the check engine light (it is always on and he’s not sure why, but it sometimes turns off for weeks at a time, so it cannot be that bad, right? Besides, it is presently off), the oil light, because he never was good at getting oil changes at the appropriate times, and the ABS system light, which was familiar to anyone who tried driving in Chicago in the winter.</p><p>He reaches over to fumble in the glove box, one hand still on the wheel, and both eyes watching traffic. He thinks he’s found the manual among the discarded napkins, spare lightbulbs, and outdated phone chargers when the car backfires.</p><p>The whole car stutters, the engine makes a grinding noise, and Kili swears when his head is jerked against he center console. He bolts upright, his right hand going to left cheek. The car is slowing down and the lights have gone out. The car behind him lays on the horn before swerving out to speed past him; the passenger leans out the window to give him the finger, but Kili is too busy cursing his car to notice. He manages to pull off the side of the road before the car stops moving completely.</p><p>He takes the key out, puts it back in and turns it.</p><p>The lights stay off. The car makes a rapid clicking sound.</p><p>“Why?!” Kili shouts at the car. “Over 2,000 miles and <em>now</em> you die?” He crosses his arms over the steering wheel and drops his head forward onto his folded arms and fights the urge to cry, because, right now, it will not help.</p><p>Everything shakes as a semi-truck screams past.</p><p>Kili scrubs roughly at his face, checks the mirror for any oncoming cars on the mostly empty highway, and kicks open the door. He self consciously adjusts his white t-shirt to make sure it is covering the holster of his newly acquired gun that he is concealing. He is still not used to it, and he had carefully checked reciprocity laws for concealed carry permits as he crossed state lines. Having the gun makes him nervous, but not having it is worse.</p><p>He fumbles for the release for the hood of the car. He finds the prop bar, wincing at the heat of it, and frowns at the engine.</p><p>There is no smoke or steam.</p><p>He had blown a head gasket once when he was in high school and the sickly sweet burning smell was not one he was in a hurry to encounter again.</p><p>He checks the few things that he knows to check. The oil is a bit low, but it is not empty and the coolant overflow tank has plenty of thick, green antifreeze.</p><p>He crosses his arms and continues to stare at the engine as if it will dawn on him what is wrong and he will be able to fix it himself if he stares at it long enough. But it does not. He sweats in the beating sun and listens to the <em>plink</em> of condensation falling from his engine to the blacktop.</p><p>He takes a deep breath and lets it out heavily through his nose. “Shit,” he grumbles. And his face falls into an expression of resignation. He walks around to the passenger door and looks around for his phone. He thought it had been in the cupholder, but it is no longer there. He starts stuffing the fast food garbage that litters his passenger seat and footwell into a paper bag. There he finds his phone sitting on some old french fries.</p><p>He taps the screen to wake it up.</p><p>Nothing happens.</p><p>He clicks the power button.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>He holds down the power button. A battery with a cord logo appears and then the screen goes black again. Not thinking he plugs it into his car charger, but then remembers that if the car is not turning on it probably will not charge his phone. A press of a button tells him that his phone is not charging.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>He crosses his arms on the roof of the car, rests his chin there, and frowns. He could try to flag someone down, but the chances of that working are slim. No one stops for stranded drivers anymore because they assume that everyone has a phone. And if they were going to stop they probably would not stop for a young man.</p><p>Kili is staring out at the golden brown fields and coming to the decision to take any valuables from the car and to start walking when the roaring motorcycle approaches. Kili waits for it to pass, but the driver slows down and pulls off the road just in front of Kili’s rusty Civic.</p><p>“Thank fuck,” Kili mutters to himself. “Hey, man!” he says approaching the bike and its rider. “Thanks for stopping. My car died and won’t start and my phone is dead. I…”</p><p>He stops when the rider dismounts his bike and pulls off his helmet. He tucks long blonde strands behind his ears and hangs the helmet from the handle bars.</p><p>The rider snorts. “Long time no see, short stuff.” His eyes travel appraisingly from Kili’s face to his feet and back again. “Though, you’re not so short anymore, Kili, but a decade will do that.”</p><p>Kili bristles. This is not the first person he thought he would see when he came back home. He had thought that he would have more time to prepare, as if 2,100 miles and three straight days in the car were not enough.</p><p>He does not return Fili’s greeting. “I just need to use your phone to call for a tow and then you can leave,” Kili says tightly.</p><p>Fili’s expression hardens a little with determination. Kili knows the stubborn set of Fili’s jaw all too well. “I might as well take a look while I’m here. Might save you a couple bucks.”</p><p>Kili trails behind Fili and wonders if he should just ask to use his phone again.</p><p>Fili pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and checks the oil—“I already did that,” Kili protests—and then he checks a few other things.</p><p>Fili wipes his fingers on the rag leaving greasy smears behind. “Try to start it up for me,” he says with a jerk of his head.</p><p>“I really just need to call for a tow,” Kili says again.</p><p>Fili’s gaze is steady. He does not say anything while he waits for Kili to climb into the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition, and turn it. Fili smiles to himself when he sees Kili’s lips moving as he mutters to himself.</p><p>The car clicks again.</p><p>Kili steps out of the car, one foot on the door frame and his arms on the hood of the car and the top of the door. “See? Nothing.”</p><p>“Your battery’s dead.”</p><p>“I could have guessed that.”</p><p>Fili makes a noise in the back of his throat, “Uhuh. Do you have jumper cables?”</p><p>Kili shakes his head.</p><p>“That’s alright. I’ve got some.” Fili walks back to his bike and opens one of the saddlebags and pulls out the thick red and black cables.</p><p>He continues talking as he cleans corrosion for the Civic’s battery and connects the clamps to the batteries. “It’s a good thing that you have a small car. Anything much bigger than this and my bike woudn’t be able to jump it.”</p><p>Kili nods sourly and watches. Kili tries to ignore the ways in which Fili has changed since he left for Chicago. His hair is longer, his beard fuller, the slightest hints of wrinkles sit at the corners of his eyes, but in many ways he is the same boy Kili has always known. The same dark, grubby jeans, t-shirt, leather boots and vest. The jacket has patches on it, which tells Kili that Fili is no longer a wannabe member of the crew, but a full fledged member.</p><p>Fili starts up his bike. “It’ll take a bit to get it started.” He moves to rest against the open front of Kili’s car. He scratches at his beard. “What? You’re not going to talk to me?”</p><p>“What do you want me to say?” Kili asks with a shrug of his shoulders, a roll of his eyes, and a raising of his eyebrows.</p><p>Fili crosses his arms and settles more firmly against the car’s bumper, his jeans wrinkling around his thighs, not that Kili notices. “You could start with telling me why you have a gun.”</p><p>Kili’s hand moves to check his shirt; it is still in place. “I don’t.”</p><p>“Bullshit.” Fili rolls his eyes. “It’s not obvious, but I’d be a deadman by now if I didn’t know how to spot a concealed weapon.”</p><p>Kili says nothing.</p><p>“So, are you going to tell me?”</p><p>“No,” Kili says flatly.</p><p>“What do you want to talk about then?”</p><p>Kili looks over Fili’s shoulder to the distant outline of the Sierra Nevada. “Anything but that,” he answers quietly.</p><p>“Okay, then. Why’d you come back after all these years?”</p><p>A safe enough question, Kili thinks. “My dad died.”</p><p>“I heard. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I have to take care of his stuff.”</p><p>“There are people you can hire to do that. I know a…”</p><p>Kili interrupts. “I’d rather do it myself.”</p><p>Fili nods. His eyes go soft around the edges. “How long will you be here.”</p><p>“As long as it takes.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer.”</p><p>“A while. I took a job at the hospital here.” Kili kicks at the dry soil with the toe of his sneaker.</p><p>“So you did it,” Fili says with a smile and pride in his voice.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You became a doctor like you always dreamed.”</p><p>“Yeah, I suppose.”</p><p>Kili drops his arms and rubs at his short hair. “And you?”</p><p>“Mechanic,” Fili says simply. “At my dad’s old place.”</p><p>“I suppose I should have guessed that.”</p><p>“And I do a little stripping on the side,” Fili says with a smirk and a wink.</p><p>Kili’s response is half laugh and half groan. And there is the memory of them at 17 with fake IDs bluffing their way into a strip club only to find out that it only featured women. The nearest club that featured men was over two hours away. Fili had promised that he’d remedy that when he was old enough; he had even had a name picked out.</p><p>“Really?” Kili raises his eyebrows. There’s a small smile as he forgets himself for a moment.</p><p>“Nah,” Fili’s smile is dazzling. “But you seemed pretty interested in that. I could pick it up as another side gig,” he laughs.</p><p>Kili’s smile vanishes. “How much longer?” he nods his head to the cables.</p><p>Fili checks his watch. “We can try to start it in a few minutes.</p><p>“How was Chicago?”</p><p>“Cold.”</p><p>“But you stayed.”</p><p>“Yeah. School. Work.” He shrugs.</p><p>Fili looks at his boots, and the dust streaks on the black leather hold his attention for a moment. He raises his head, “You could have come back you know.”</p><p>“Do I?”</p><p>“I waited for you. Years…”</p><p>Kili snorts, “I highly doubt that. I bet I wasn’t even gone for five minutes when your mother and uncle started trying to set you up with someone more <em>appropriate.</em>” He spits out the last word.</p><p>“They did. But I didn’t take them up on it. Not for a long time.”</p><p>Fili’s eyes hit Kili like a punch to the stomach.</p><p>Fili pushes away from the bumper. “Go ahead and try to start it.”</p><p>Kili skirts around the car and sits in the driver’s seat with one leg in and one leg out. He closes his eyes with a brief prayer and turns the key.</p><p>The engine turns over and rumbles to life.</p><p>Kili grins and gives it a bit of gas. He watches the RPMs climb and then drop when he takes his foot off the gas. He climbs out of the car with his smile still on his face.</p><p>Then there is the grinding noise again.</p><p>And the car stops running.</p><p>“Does it need longer?” Kili asks grumpily coming around to the front of the car where Fili still stands.</p><p>Fili shakes his head. “Nah. Your alternator is bad. You’ll need to get that replaced.” He looks up at Kili, “I guess you’ll need that tow after all.”</p><p>He steps away from the car and pulls out his phone before Kili can say anything else.</p><p>Kili stuffs his hands in his pockets awkwardly. He notices that Fili’s shirt sleeves are rolled up now revealing a black line tattoo of a dragon on his right arm. Its head is on Fili’s hand and its jaws open on the webbing of his forefinger and thumb. The rest of it disappears above his elbow and Kili wonders what the rest of it looks like. But then he shuts down that thought.</p><p>Fili turns back to Kili while stuffing his phone back into his pocket.</p><p>“A truck will be here in about 20 minutes. I can probably get your alternator fixed tomorrow morning. You’ll be able to pick it up around lunchtime.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Look. I can give you a ride to your dad’s place if you don’t want to wait?” Fili gestures over his shoulder to his bike. There is a hopeful look on his face.</p><p>“I’ll wait for the truck if that’s alright,” Kili says firmly. He does not want to think about what would happen if he got on the back of FIli’s bike again after 15 years away.</p><p>“Alright then,” Fili shrugs. He swings a leg over the saddle and settles his helmet in place. “See you around, Kee,” Fili says with a teasing smirk. Then he starts up his bike and pulls onto the highway; his tires spiting gravel into the dry grass and dirt on the shoulder.</p><p>Kili scowls.</p><p>This is not how he wanted to come home. But it could be worse. And he will have to see Fili again when he picks up his car; but he cannot decide if that is a good thing or not. But he’ll see him at lunchtime tomorrow.</p><p>And maybe there will be lunch.</p><p>
  <span class="Apple-converted-space">And maybe it won't be that bad.</span>
</p><p>His frown fades.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>P.S. @ other mechanic!Fili lovers: shout at me on Tumblr, share some ideas, and we can try to figure out where the story goes!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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